


Good Work

by scarletjedi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Praise Kink, Qui-Gon Lives, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 23:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11999952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletjedi/pseuds/scarletjedi
Summary: It started innocently enough.





	Good Work

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kettish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettish/gifts).



> for kettish!
> 
> Thank you for the inspiration!

It started innocently enough: a successful mission, a warm smile as they left the Council chambers, and Qui-Gon’s hand squeezing his shoulder gently, as he said the words, “Good work, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan was tired, worn to the edges of his endurance from the last fortnight, and the campaign that had dragged on for months before that, and the sleepless nights, and, and, and…

Years of emotion suppressed, shoved down, stubbornly ignored, but never released, never worked past, flooded though his system like the blood rushing to his cheeks, flushing his face and--

Obi-Wan’s breath hitched.

Qui-Gon stared at him—or, rather, he stared at where his hand still lay on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, his expression intent. Slowly, Qui-Gon brought his thumb up to caress the side of Obi-Wan’s neck, and Obi-Wan swallowed thickly.

Heart in his ears, Obi-Wan just barely made out the kindly meant instructions to eat and bathe and sleep, a remnant of their old bond of Master and Apprentice that lingered although Obi-Wan’s own padawan had grown to knighthood and now had a padawan of his own.

It didn’t hurt that Obi-Wan had a suspicion that Cody and Qui-Gon were in cahoots, conspiring behind his back to make sure Obi-Wan didn’t keel over mid-mission.

Honestly, it happened _one time._

But then, Qui-Gon let his hand drop, stepping back, and the world returned in a rush. Qui-Gon smiled at him, and Obi-Wan realized he was waiting for a response. Digging deep, he pulled up a smile and a nod.

Qui-Gon went to speak with Plo, and Obi-Wan fled with as much dignity as he could muster.

Whatever that moment was, it had passed, and Obi-Wan was more than willing to let go his confused jumble of emotions into the Force. As it was, he was quickly preoccupied by the million little and big things that demanded his attention daily in this quagmire of a civil war.

* * *

But it would not be the end of it.

From that moment, every time Obi-Wan saw Qui-Gon, his former master had something new to say.

Obi-Wan trimmed his hair, at last. “It suits you, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan was victorious when he sparred against Mace in the salle. “Well done, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan returned from campaign, not only successful, but unequivocally so, as his actions also lead to much needed reform in the local leadership: “I’m proud of you, Obi-Wan.”

And every time, Obi-Wan fought to keep his composure even, to keep hidden the pleasure that bubbled through him like sparking wine.

More surprising, however, was that, in the end, it would not be this strange dance between them that lead to their tumbling together into bed. Qui-Gon had not made good on the promises hidden on those touches, nor had Obi-Wan pushed back, forcing Qui-Gon to admit to his actions.

On the other hand, the bottle of Corellian brandy—Obi-Wan’s favorite—was less guiltless.

Qui-Gon had arrived at Obi-Wan’s quarters aboard the Negotiator during what should have been Obi-Wan’s downtime (it was laughable, really. As a High General, Obi-Wan didn’t _get_ downtime, save for when it was medically required, or when Helix would sit on him until he stayed put).

Wrapped up in the paperwork, Obi-Wan absently called “come in” at the chime of the door, and smiled in relief when it was Qui-Gon and not—yet another—problem for him to fix.

Then Qui-Gon had pulled the bottle from the folds of his cloak, and Obi-Wan could have kissed him right then.

“Where did you get that?” Obi-Wan demanded happily, standing from his desk and quickly crossing to take the bottle. Wartime rationing and disrupted trade routes had made the already hard to get drink even more rare, and cheap imitations had flooded local markets. But this…this was real, the label proclaiming it a distinctly good vintage and the color reflecting charmingly in the ships lights.

Qui-Gon smiled. “Let’s just say that I have a contact who was more than willing to trade.” Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows at that, but decided that he didn’t want to know why Qui-Gon’s “contact” was so willing to trade. “Happy Birthday, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan paused, quickly calculating. His birthday had actually been nearly two ten-days previous, but Qui-Gon had been nearly on the other end of the galaxy then, and it’s not like Obi-Wan had remembered. (Though, Anakin had presented him with a plant for his office. It was a tiny succulent, filled with spines that looked soft but were quite sharp to the touch. “It reminded me of you,” he had said. Looking back, that would have been his birthday. _Kark._ He would have to say thank you when he saw him next). 

Looking up, still facing the bottle, Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “No rock?”

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes. “If you don’t want it—“

Obi-Wan clutched the bottle to his chest, and Qui-Gon broke off, laughing. After a moment, Obi-Wan chuckled as well. “Come in, sit. I have glasses, I believe.”

He didn’t have glasses.

What he _did_ have were teacups, which would work just as well, thank you.

A simple nightcap became two, loosening Obi-Wan just enough to put his hand on Qui-Gon’s knee as he leaned in, giggling a bit while thanking him with all the severity of the slightly tipsy—and Qui-Gon kissed him.

And Obi-Wan, who knew in his few moments of absolute honesty with himself that he had been rather desperately in love with Qui-Gon for years, made a soft sound in the back of his throat, and kissed back.

Qui-Gon tasted like brandy, and his hair smelled faintly of the pipe smoke Obi-Wan knew he used but had never actually seen, and his hand was warm and big on Obi-Wan’s cheek and he kissed with desperate passion.

In the back of his mind, their bond blossomed with the emotions between them, love and affection and _lust_ and Obi-Wan reached towards it, and let himself succumb.

Which would be how they ended up here, Obi-Wan on his back in his bed, his tunics pushed back and tangled around his arms, his leggings and underthings gone, thrown across the room, and holding his knees held up near his shoulders as Qui-Gon licked a hot, wet stripe across his hole.

Obi-Wan moaned, had been moaning nearly continuously since he first felt Qui-Gon’s beard teasing the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, and he would be feeling it tomorrow, he knew, but couldn’t bring himself to care.

Qui-Gon nosed along Obi-Wan’s balls, and Obi-Wan moaned louder, desperate for more, more contact, more touch, but he couldn’t risk letting go of his legs, not if it meant Qui-Gon might stop.

Slipping his hands under Obi-Wan’s backside, Qui-Gon pulled his hips upward, and Obi-Wan gasped as the shift let Qui-Gon tongue him more fully. He didn’t even care when he felt one hand leave, especially when a finger returned to press gently against Obi-Wan’s hole as Qui-Gon sucked a kiss onto his perineum.

Obi-Wan keened, and Qui-Gon pressed his finger in easily, Obi-Wan’s hole already loose and wet from Qui-Gon’s mouth.

“Please,” Obi-Wan gasped out.

Qui-Gon paused, only for a moment, but there. Obi-Wan titled his head, opening his mouth, to question, when Qui-Gon thrust in sharply with his fingers—“Ah!”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon breathed, and bent his head to take Obi-Wan’s cock into his mouth.

Head falling back, Obi-Wan’s world narrowed to the twinned pleasured between his thighs. He tried to close his mouth, to speak, but Qui-Gon curled his fingers with every thrust, hitting that spot deep within, and every breath came as a soft cry.

Qui-Gon pulled back, Obi-Wan’s cock slapping wetly against his stomach, the cool air of the room cold against his overheated skin, and he forced himself to open his eyes. Qui-Gon smiled at him.

“There you are,” he said, voice warm and even as if he wasn’t still thrusting his fingers and making Obi-Wan squirm. “You sound…” Qui-Gon’s trailed off, his voice rough. He bit his lip as his eyes raked over Obi-Wan. “You move so perfectly on my hand, I can’t wait to see how you move on my cock.” 

Like a fire sparked, Obi-Wan came suddenly, his face open in surprise and his pleasure looking nearly pained as he shot untouched over his chest.

There was a moment of stillness, when Obi-Wan’s panting breaths were the only movement. He closed his eyes, feeling like he hadn’t since he was a Padawan and prone to excitement at a stiff breeze…except Qui-Gon’s fingers were still inside of him, and when Obi-Wan started to tense, Qui-Gon thrust, sending sparks flying down already sensitive nerves and Obi-Wan gasped.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, his voice soft—nearly reverent—and Obi-Wan forced himself to look.

Qui-Gon’s eyes were dark with passion, his focus intent, cock still straining against the fabric of his trousers.

Obi-Wan licked his lips, and Qui-Gon groaned. “Oh, my beautiful boy, you’re _perfect_ ,” he said, rough, and pulled his hand away. Obi-Wan whined, and started to lower his leg, but Qui-Gon’s hand shot out and caught him. “No,” he said, and then, “You drive me crazy, Obi-Wan, and I would very much like to fuck you now.”

In answer, Obi-Wan nodded, tightened his grip on his legs, widening even further, and Qui-Gon fumbled in his haste to get his own clothing off.

Tunics off, pants down and tangled around the boots that would take too long to remove, Qui-Gon fisted his cock, and Obi-Wan stared, wanting nothing more than to take it inside him where he still felt empty from Qui-Gon’s fingers.

But Qui-Gon hesitated. “Do you have…?” he asked tightly, and it took a moment for Obi-Wan to process, but ne nodded and gestured towards the bedside drawer, where a bottle of lube was already floating up into Qui-Gon’s reach.

Snatching it from the air, Qui-Gon slicked his cock, adding extra to his fingers to press into Obi-Wan’s hole. The slick was cold, and Obi-Wan hissed, but then it didn’t matter because Qui-Gon was there, leaning over him braced on one arm while the other guided his thick, heavy cock into him. Obi-Wan whined with the stretch of it—bigger by far than Qui-Gon’s fingers, the lube easing the way so there was only a hint of a burn that quickly gave way.

“Fuck,” Obi-Wan moaned, wanting to move, needing Qui-Gon to move, but he was stuck, folded nearly in half, come cooling on his belly and he was _still hard_ , had never softened, had never let the rush of pleasure fade and cool.

Qui-Gon kissed him, and Obi-Wan kissed back with teeth and tongue until Qui-Gon held him still a heavy hand against his chest, and began to thrust.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said softly into Obi-Wan’s ear, “My love, my Obi, you’re so good. You’re perfect—holding yourself so well, giving me your pleasure—“

Obi-Wan moaned, the words dancing through his mind, his pleasure ramping up once more.

“You’re getting close again, aren’t you? You wonderful, beautiful man. You’re so good, you’re my good man, aren’t you? You’re good for _me_.”

“Yes!” Obi-Wan cried, arching his back, desperately seeking contact.

“Then come for me, by Obi,” Qui-Gon said, and his hand closed around Obi-Wan’s cock, and Obi-Wan came with a wail, rocking against Qui-Gon as he fucked him through it until Obi-Wan was spent and twitching.

And Qui-Gon was still hard inside of him, and Obi-Wan had just enough in him to pull Qui-Gon closer, to urge him on, and Qui-Gon thrust into Obi-Wan’s loose and pliant body, warm and sated, until he, too, came with a long, low groan.

Qui-Gon pulled free, then lay on top of Obi-Wan, resting his head on Obi-Wan’s chest as Obi-Wan slowly lowered his legs.

There was quiet for a long time, a satisfied peace filling the air between them. Before too long, however, Obi-Wan spoke.

“You are very heavy.” His voice was mild, and Qui-Gon muffled a snort of laughter against his chest, and shifted over to the side, wrapping his arm around Obi-Wan’s waist and tangling their legs together.

Obi-Wan placed a gentle kiss to the top of Qui-Gon’s head, running his fingers through his hair, twisting the strands between his fingers. “When did you realize?” he asked, quietly.

“Hmm?” Qui-Gon hummed, already heavy with sleep.

“What I like,” Obi-wan clarified. “When did you realize?”

“Oh,” Qui-Gon said, drowsy. “When you came on my hand because I said you looked good. Kind of hard to miss, though I was very thoroughly distracted.” He raised his head to smile sleepily at Obi-Wan. “You are very distracting.”

Obi-Wan could feel his face heat even as he stared. “That’s it? That’s when you figured it out?”

Qui-Gon blinked. “Yes? Am I missing something?”

All of that; All of those months—and Qui-Gon hadn’t even noticed.

Obi-Wan laughed, and Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes. “When did you realize?”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said through his giggles. “Forever ago, it seems.”


End file.
